


How To Cook CHENLE Ramyeon 천러라면 만들기!👨🍳

by lilcrabcrab



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Normal Life, Post-Break Up, Ramen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 13:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19870594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilcrabcrab/pseuds/lilcrabcrab
Summary: There were two things in Chenle's life that mattered the most to him: ramen, and Park Jisung.It stands to reason, then, that he doesn't last too well when they're both taken from him.





	How To Cook CHENLE Ramyeon 천러라면 만들기!👨🍳

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, obviously, by the ramen making video. I actually made that ramen, and it was hella good, so to accompany this fic, consider making yourself a bowl as well. Just make sure you don't choke as you read ;)

Our relationship was centered around ramen. Not the fancy, authentic, Japanese ramen either: just the instant type, with some tomatoes chucked in, enough spice to kill a horse, all topped off with a fried egg. He always thought my fried eggs were the best, even though we messed up a lot of the time. Maybe he just thought everything I did was the best.

The way that ramen became our thing was nothing romantic at all. It just happened to be that we were too young and broke to afford going out for dates, so most of the time, he just came over to my house instead. I didn’t know how to make anything much, but who doesn’t love ramen, right? Without realising it, almost all of our dates involved me making this specific twist on instant ramen, and him watching me as if I were a professional chef. 

One day, he sidled up to me in the kitchen as I was making it, and said “Chenle, why do we always have ramen?”

“I- yea I guess we do, don’t we?”

“It’s like, our date food, isn’t it?” Giggles. “You’re my ramen daddy.”

“Don’t accept ramen from other guys, babe,” I said, elbowing him playfully. “I consider that cheating.”

I hope he doesn’t. I myself don’t: I don’t even eat it at all anymore.

Strangely, life is very different without ramen. I find myself snacking less: eating less in general, and I can feel myself getting thinner. There are a few packets at the bottom of the pantry, and I look at them, sometimes, considering, but it feels wrong without him.

Life is even more different without Jisung, of course. 

Every place is empty without his towering dorkiness beside me, and deafeningly quiet without his voice. There is something twisted about seeing him laugh from across a room: I fall in love with it at the same time as I break, knowing that I cannot cause it anymore.

Worst of all, I cannot get him out of my dreams. Where he is missing in real life, he is there; smiling, holding me, saying ‘sorry, sorry, I never wanted you to leave, I’ll do better next time, Chenle, please, I miss you.’

And in those moments my own, very real, too real, words echo back to me.

“I don’t need your love anymore, Jisung.”

And then, his broken apology.

I wish I could say that I do not know why I said it. I wish it had all been my fault, and he had done nothing wrong, and I need only run back and apologise and beg for him back.

But no relationship breaks that way - just as everything we did was done together, everything that broke us was done by both as well.

It is akin, I suppose, to the way we ended up making the ramen, once he got tired of just watching me. One of us would watch the pot, and the other would fry the eggs, and if one of us messed up, it would definitely be the fault of us both, because we distracted each other so much.

He still distracts me now, as I decide, for the first time since, to make the dish again. His pleas for me to calm down, to have this conversation later, to give him another chance, echo in my head, and I wonder why I never did. Hindsight gives no comfort - only reveals the mistakes I made. Is this pain now worth the elimination of the little ways he hurt me before? And is it too late to give that second chance now?

I cut the tomatoes, and crush them in the soup. The red pigment spreads into the water like blood.

All I know is that it’s impossible to live without him now.

I consider sending him a text. I had tried a few times, and although it went well half the time, the other half he was distant. He said it was too difficult to talk to me, that he was tired.

“I just want to be friends now,” I said.

“Can’t you see that it’s hard?” he replied.

When the seasonings are all in the water, the steam starts to smell good. The soup, however, doesn’t taste good: we had tried, once, just for fun, and I still remember with frightening clarity how cute his face was when he realised it didn’t quite work without the noodles.

To be honest, I know that he’s home right now - he always is, at this time. I know that around now, he’s just returning from dance, and will sit around his house pointlessly for an hour, procrastinating his shower. I know this too well, and I also know that he would usually call me during this time, so I could listen to his tired, happy ramblings, and sometimes, admire how good he looked, all sweaty in his casual practice clothes. And even better, he would invite me around sometimes, to make him ramen, and then partake in other similarly spicy, activities.

There are remnants of him everywhere. The dumb art that we made together still hangs in my room, and there’s a love letter held down by a little pink fridge magnet. “I will always come back to you,” it said, “No matter how long it takes for you to come back to me.”

I chuck the noodles in, and focus on frying an egg.

And then, I fry another one.

\---

When I turn up at his house, he answers the door immediately, then stands in shock, staring at me. Absurdly, he starts to smile as he realises why I am there, but when he sees the bowl in my hands, he breaks down in tears.

“Jisung.”

He only sniffles in reply, looking around uncertainly before beckoning for me to enter. I set the ramen on the counter, and, not knowing what else to do, Jisung starts to split it into two bowls to share.

“Jisung,” I try again.

He looks up at me with red eyes. The two bowls sit on the counter, untouched. For a long time, he does not speak, but eventually, he utters out a soft “finally?”

I nod, and hold out my arms: he crashes into them. There are a thousand beautiful words I think of saying, but I realise that they’ve all been said. Instead, when the hug finally ends, I take his hand, and look him in his eyes hard enough that he starts to giggle.

“Let’s eat,” I say.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please give comments and kudos <3 <3 <3


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